


That's what friends are for

by Insertsmartnamehere



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Joly is too pure, M/M, Oblivious Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insertsmartnamehere/pseuds/Insertsmartnamehere
Summary: Enjolras cocked a brow. 'You should ease up with the – ’'Worrying, yes, yes, I know.’ Joly noticed he was moving his hands too much, and let them fall to his side. 'But this is different.'Or: Grantaire likes to suffer alone. His friends won't let him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these characters this, so we can all safely blame it on Victor Hugo.  
> If you could find the time to leave a comment, I will grin like an idiot behind this screen.

‘R, every time you are this silent, I am worried you are either too drunk to remember where you left your tongue, or wondering what’s the worst possible thing you could say next.’

The grin was wiped from Joly’s lips when Grantaire looked up to him. He wasn’t that charming on the best of his days, but right now, he looked positively ghostly. The only color on his pale face were the purple bags beneath his eyes and even though it wasn’t hot in the café, sweat pooled on his brow.

‘Jesus, R!’ Joly exclaimed. ‘Are you sick?’

He reached out to touch his friends cheek, but Grantaire swept his hand away. ‘I am fine.’

Joly raised one brow. 'Yeah, sure. I’ll put that on your tombstone. Now, let me feel if you are running a fever.’

He reached out again. This time, Grantaire stood up. His movements were quick and harsh. With a shock that made his heart clench, Joly realized his hands were shaking.

'I said: I am fine.’ Grantaire voice was filled with more venom than a snake's teeth. Before he was even aware of it, Joly had backed away a little. He held his tone carefully calm when he answered: 'I am pretty sure you are not, friend. Why not skip the drinking tonight and go home early? You should be in bed.’

Instead of answering, Grantaire looked him straight in the eye for a while, his shoulders high and muscles tense. He looked wary, like he hadn’t slept in a long time. Suddenly, he turned around and made his way into the crowd and to the door, pushing away anyone who came too close.

Everything in Joly wanted to follow him. _Make sure he gets home!_ his mind yelled. _And get him a cup of tea!_ his heart supplied. All he did, however, was sit down on a bar stool, facing away from the door, trying not to be tempted.

He had barely settled when a warm hand touched his shoulder. 'Hey,’ Bossuet greeted. 'Something up with R? He just walked past me to the door. Didn’t even say hello. I believe he was clutching his stomach.’

'He is sick, I figure,’ Joly answered. 'Was pretty rude about it. I think we should leave him alone for the time being. Give him some space.’

He looked at Bossuet, only to see he was watching the door like it could summon back their friend. 'Poor fellow.’

Joly just nodded.

***

It was not yet half past seven when Joly entered the café the next evening. It was quiet; the bartender was cleaning glasses and only a few tables were taken by couples having hushed conversations. One glance was enough to tell Joly everything he needed to know: no Grantaire.

Joly’s throat turned a little dry. He might never be here this early; Grantaire surely was. He had figured that maybe, if it was less busy and the man felt less taken of guard, he would be more responsive.

As if Grantaire could be hiding beneath a table or pushed up against a wall, he looked around again. A sudden voice startled him.

'Joly! You are early, my friend.’

Enjolras was standing in the door way, brushing back his hair and smiling.

'Have you seen R?’ Joly burst out.

The smile didn’t falter, but it turned a little grim. 'No, why? He got something to say? I thought he was awfully quiet last night.’

Never in his life had Joly been this impatient with the constant struggle between his two friends. There was a well being dug deep in his stomach, a cold, deep, black feeling creeping up and making his heartbeat frantic. How could Enjolras not feel it?

'Look, he was quiet, because he was sick. Now it’s been a day, he doesn’t answer any of my messages and he isn’t here. I am afraid he might be really out of it. Like really, really out.’

When he stopped to breathe, Enjolras cocked a brow. 'You should ease up with the – ’

'Worrying, yes, yes, I know.’ Joly noticed he was moving his hands too much, and let them fall to his side. 'But this is different. Anyway, I am going to take a look at his apartment. You coming?’

It was the first time Enjolras’s calm slipped. He blinked a few times in rapid succession. 'Why would I come? He doesn’t even like me.’

There was no time for this, but Joly instinctively knew that if Grantaire would take advice from anyone, it would be Enjolras. So he strode to the door and grabbed his arm. 'Sure he does. Now come. And hurry up, please.’

***

They arrived at Grantaire’s apartment about half an hour later, their hair dripping with late summer rain. Behind a small door, an empty, gloomy hallway was hiding, a staircase leading up to a landing with two more doors.

Quickly, Joly jumped up the stairs, Enjolras following with a little more hesitance and grace. Having arrived upstairs, Joly chose the left door and knocked, twice.

No answer. Again, he knocked, pushing his ear to the door. Absolute silence. Had Grantaire gone out to drink at another pub, where he wouldn’t be bothered? Was he too sick to answer? Or had he never even made it home?

Joly knocked a fourth time. 'R? Grantaire? You in there? Please answer, man. We worry.’

He looked back at Enjolras, hovering behind him with his hands in his pockets. 'You call him.’

'What? I –’

Joly cut him short, roughly grabbing him and pushing him to the door. 'Come on.’

'Okay, alright, eh…’ Enjolras turned to the unforgiving piece of wood that blocked them from their friend. 'Grantaire? It’s okay if you don’t want to be bothered, but could you please give us something to work with? Joly is pretty desperate.’ A moment later, as in afterthought, he added: 'And I am kind of starting to worry, too.’

A low moan answered them. The sound was too weak to be coming from a grown man that could drink twice his weight in alcohol, but it was there, nevertheless. Joly felt a warm rush go trough his body, unsure whether it was relieve or fear.

'Try the door,’ Enjolras suddenly advised. He had paled, Joly saw, and a part of him, a mean part he didn’t want to acknowledge, thought: _Good, he is finally getting it._ 'If he was this sick yesterday, he might have forgotten to lock it.’

Joly did as he said; the knob turned under his hand. He shared a glance with Enjolras before saying: 'Grantaire? We are coming in.’

Slowly, preparing for the worst, he opened the door. The smell took away his breath. For a moment, he couldn’t find his friend and he was afraid he had encountered something else, some scary moaning monster, but then he saw Grantaire. The man was lying on the carpet in front of the couch, curled up and shivering.

Joly rushed to him. Oblivious to the sick on the ground, he knelt next to his friend. 'Hey, man. It’s alright. We are going to take care of you.’

Grantaire rolled to his back, growling. He looked up with red-rimmed eyes. 'Please leave,’ he whispered. 'I don’t want you to… see me… like this.’

Joly put a hand on his head and stroked his sweat-soaked curls. 'I am not leaving. We are going to get you cleaned up and in bed. Something to drink, medicine. Do you have any idea what this could be? Did you eat something weird?’

Grantaire’s eyes fluttered with the touch. His body relaxed slightly, and Joly knew he had won.

'It’s the… alcohol,’ he whispered.

Joly carefully hooked his hands under his shoulders and pulled him half into his lap. He felt cold, but his shirt was wet like he was the one that had been running through the hosing rain. 'How much did you drink? Do you remember?’

'More like… how little,’ Grantaire mumbled. 'I stopped.’

For a moment, Joly didn’t know what to answer. All he could do was repeat the words. 'You… stopped?’

'Enjolras…’ Grantaire muttered. His hand was raised a little, grabbing thin air, and Joly took it in his. 'I thought … if I stopped… he would see I have some kind of guts.’

Joly met Enjolras’s eyes. He was standing three feet back, his hand at his nose, but is was slowly dropping now. He looked shell shocked.

'It’s alright,’ Joly repeated. 'That’s so brave, Grantaire, that’s such a great thing to do. I am proud of you. Now let us help, let us make this easier.’

Finally, Grantaire relaxed all the way. It was like his bones had turned to jelly; he was suddenly heavy.

'Let the bath fill,’ Joly said barked to Enjolras. 'We should clean him. And get some comfortable clothes. Bedroom is to the left, bath second door. But first bring a glass of water. He has lost way to much fluids.’

While the bath was running and Enjolras was rummaging trough the closet, Joly helped Grantaire sit up enough to drink. After a few sips, however, Grantaire whimpered. 'Too much,’ he said, before retching violently. There was little to bring up, but the coughing alone sounded painful. Joly rubbed his back helplessly and put away the glass for the moment.

Getting him into the bath was another fight. Joly asked Enjolras to help him, but as soon as he came into Grantaire’s view, the man started struggling.

'Enjolras,’ he said. 'What are you…? I am okay, I don’t need help. Please, don’t look.’

The last words sounded so broken that Joly could feel their edges rip him apart. To his surprise, Enjolras reacted with a simple: 'Nothing to be ashamed of, friend. You are taking a big step here. Now let’s get you in the water and you will feel better soon.’

Between the two of them, they hauled him to his feet. The dead weight made their shoulders hunch and their backs ache, but they took it slow, letting Grantaire set the pace. He stumbled with every step, the room clearly spinning around him. Halfway trough they had to stop so he could throw up again. After every retch, he whimpered. Enjolras held him upright while Joly tried his hardest to provide some warmth and comfort.

In the end, they did get him into the bathroom. Enjolras turned around discretely while Joly stripped him to his boxers and helped him climb into the tub. There, his feet in the water and the rest of his body trembling, Grantaire stopped. He clutched Joly’s arms, almost painfully so, unwilling to let go.

'It’s okay,’ Joly said. ‘We are not leaving. You are not alone anymore.’

Grantaire quivered when he was fully in the water. 'No one ever took care of me,’ he whispered.

Enjolras came over and settled next to Joly on the edge of the tub. 'We will,’ he said sternly. The color was back in his face and he was showing some new kind of resolve. 'That’s what we do, isn't it? Fight together.’

Grantaire didn’t answer. His eyes closed after a while, his body stilling. For the first time, the lines on his brow smoothed out. Just when Joly thought he had fallen asleep right there, he looked up at them.

'Thank you,’ he whispered.


End file.
